Cashing in Points

I can now zoom through razor-thin lanes and not even hold my breath as I pass cars. 

I can understand the basic gist of most conversations and news reports on the radio. 

I already alerted our landlord that we will want the heat turned on soon, since I know it takes 2 weeks to get that to happen. 

I got our family enrolled in the medical system--a HUGE feat. Now we are assigned doctors in Frascati and we won't even have to pay to get check ups and medical attention. 

But the real turning point, the moment at which I realized I am really acting like a local, was cashing in my points at the grocery store. I had used a shoppers' card for the past year and the lady at the checkout station told me I was eligible to receive free groceries next time I went through the line. So I went back and sure enough, I explained to the clerk that I had points and was ready to cash them in ("scalare i punti"). The guy accepted that, checked me out, and I got 60 euros worth of free groceries. I went home and marveled. 

I am really settling in.   

Learning to Read in Italian

 Sebastian is learning to read now that he's in first grade--and it'a all in Italian. His little primer is about a baby bird, Pitti, and his mother. The first page says: 

     Ciao Mamma

     La mamma è buona

That's it! That's the first page that Sebastian has ever read in Italian. He had begun to read in English at home. But here he is starting over, since the sounds and phonograms are different. Thus begins our adventure. At least these Italians love their mammas!

How Not to Cook Dinner for 10 Days

 My husband has been traveling for 10 days with the University of Dallas through southern Italy and Sicily. While he was giving sight lectures at historical and holy sights, I was wrangling 4 kids at home. Our fifth who still lives at home was on a trip in Texas--lucky girl!--and our sixth is in college. On my husband's work trips, I used to feel very sorry for myself--the pity-party used to be intense as I managed 6 kids 9 and under. But now so many of them are self-sufficient at least being able to tie their own shoes. I was determined to be happy and see the 10 days as a sustained party. At least, I told myself, I would not cook dinner for 10 days. And so I did not. 

Day 1: I set out a nice loaf of Italian bread, a block of pecorino cheese, a bottle of wine and another of  Fanta. I had wine, they had Fanta. If anyone wanted something other than bread and cheese, they had to make it themselves. 

Day 2: Pizza Rossa from the bakery section of the grocery store plus chocolate. 

Day 3: My 13-year-old made pasta and marinara sauce. I ate more bread and cheese instead, plus pickles. 

Day 4: Roasted chicken, potatoes, and chicory from the prepared foods in the grocery store. I love Italian chickory. My kids do not. 

Day 5: Pizza from the pizza shop in Frascati.  

Day 6: More pizza from Frascati. 

Day 7: My 13-year-old cooked dinner again, this time roasting meat on a stick (they sell little trays of these sticks at the grocery store) plus more pasta. 

Day 8: Chicken nuggets and BBQ sauce and broccoli. One kid made one and another made the other. More red wine for me and Fanta for them. 

Day 9: In the late morning, I made a big pot of chopped veggies, esp. cabbage and carrots, plus red meat cubes. It cooked all day. We ate it for dinner. (I guess this is cooking dinner, but not at the dinner hour which is the really hard part). 

Day 10: More beef and veggie stew. And more red wine. 

All in all, it was magnificent! It turns out, not cooking in Italy is still a culinary delight! 

Grape Harvest

 This is the season of the grape harvest. The strapping, burly Italian guy hired to do our property's harvest is always smiling, waving, and exudes joy all day long. Then as I drive down the main road in Frascati, I sometimes find myself stuck behind another tractor such as the one in the photo below. Someone else's harvest is being transported to a local winery. These are the traffic slow-downs that put a smile on my face. How did I get here? I ask myself. Fall in Italy is truly the best.